Ward for Ward

I've been thinking of him since I saw him on CSpan's Booknotes (see blogtitle link), and I have come to the conclusion that I have an obligation --to respond --a responsibility to weigh in and out. I think. I think. What is happening around him, in him, from him is important to us all. I do a little research into the background of this man who cries like an angry eagle. I don't know if that is an accurate description. I think of Amiri Baraka's 911 poem that caused him to be ousted as New Jersey's poet laureate two years ago. I had wished to tell him I wish he hadn't said what he said--but I was thankful he had the guts to say what he felt like saying anyway. Did I think there was another way of saying what one thought? Feared? Suspected? Itched inside with? I think of old boyfriends. I don't know why but Ward reminds me of one of them, a little. Arrogant, but often right. Then again, I know he sounds right, but he feels wrong. Then I think of my relatives, as Ward likes to greet his audiences thinking of. I think of Che Guerva's movie character in Motorcycle Diaries--who called South America--America. He called a small village in the middle of Sudo America--the heart of America. How this made me feel ashamed. I think of Ward Churchill--with his unfortunate name and face--and his pulsing hot blood he calls by name but can not account for. And what does it matter anyway how he got where he got; what did he do after all? I find that he is on his fourth wife. I too am on my fourth "wife", only I am a lesbian and never married--so it doesn't look like I'm in a fourth marriage. I find that he plagarized a print--and I am not sure I understand why he would do such a thing, so I can't account for my resentment for this action. I find that he was very likely abusive, controlling, and dangerous to his former wives; this stops me in my tracks. What is he saying again? What is he trying to say? What is he doing again? What is he doing right now? I understand what is coming from his mouth. I hear what he is saying and can not argue with what he is saying. I used to work in a psychiatric ward and know from experience that there are dangerous geniuses walking the earth who we should be listening to--and this fact neither makes sense nor comforts me. A man with blood on his hands should not be crying out about the blood on other men's hands. Should a crazy man be pointing to other patient's in the room and be calling them crazy? Perhaps. But not with such self righteous passion. His actions, words, and his passion are correct and violent at once. Somehow this seems perfectly natural under the circumstances--as if he as he is is following the laws of gravity, physics, air. How can we all not be feeling violence and violent at a time like this? A life like this? Most of us are silent and turn our violence inward while unsuspectingly conspiring with the violence all around us. Too weak or too overwhelmed to admit that we have been made ugly: guilty. But not guilty actually, I don't know the word right now. I only see one element missing from the ward--compassion. He appears to be crazy, and this means he has lost control of his stop valve. This makes his actions and words more proof or evidence of our collective symptom--rather than any valuable help toward real solution or positive action. I consider that I ultimately beleive that his terrific rawness may be the only end result. Or, I may mean, that in the end, all the beautiful minds will deconstruct and separate from the soul because it is time. I don't know. Ward for Ward